The Colours Of The Dead
by ThraeFirn
Summary: Red as Blood. Blue as Sorrow. Orange as Pain. Purple as Death When you kill someone it sticks with you forever. Some people never recover.
1. Red as Blood

Crimson. The blood on his hands was crimson. It dripped down onto the earth and melted into his skin. It was flowing freely onto him, but he wasn't bleeding. He wasn't bleeding. The soldier was bleeding _onto_ him. He had killed him. He'd had to, but he'd killed him. The moments seemed to slow down, the world was almost at a standstill, because he had killed him. He had put his sai through the ninja's throat and taken his life. God. There was so much blood.

_It had been a normal day. No challenges, no fights, no problems. Raph was almost relaxed. Leo had taken them out onto patrol, then allowed them to muck around because of the quiet. Raph should have known it was the quiet before the __**storm**__. They had decided to call it a day, to return to the lair and hangout. With _each other_. They hadn't done that in ages. As they neared the manhole cover Raph had felt it. Felt that something was off. Evil even. He had grabbed Leo and told him something was wrong. He must've sounded urgent because Leo had listened. Everyone had drawn their weapons and were waiting. When the Foot had struck there were so many, too many and Raph had to focus as five ninjas came at him at a time._

_They were doing fine though, and the Foot were retreating, leaving. And Leo let his guard down. The ninja had moved so fast, struck to kill, Raph only had time to do the same. Raph's hit landed the ninja's did not. The remainder of the Foot had fled, leaving Raph ad his brothers to deal with the man bleeding from a hole in his neck. And the scars that he would leave behind._

Blood ran down his hands as he desperately and uselessly tried to stop the bleeding. The ninja gurgled blood coming out of his mouth in a fine mist, grasping at his throat helplessly. Raph could barely breathe. He felt like he was the one who had been stabbed, like he was the one dying. God. He wished he was the one dying. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see his brothers looking sadly down at him. "You had no choice Raph." Leo's voice was like a faint noise in the distance, filled with meaning but indecipherable.

The smell was distinctive and he knew that he may never be rid of it. He may never be rid of the blood on his hands, the crimson blood. Blood covering his arms, his chest, his face and his mask. His _**red**_ mask. The tattered piece of cloth that covered his eyes. A mask that now he could now confidently say was as _**red as blood**_.


	2. Blue as Sorrow

It hit him like a dull blow to the stomach, faint, almost muted, but hard. Existent. Constant. Proof. Proof that it had happened. Proof that he had done it. Proof that he killed Karai. He could remember it but it was so unreal, so dreamlike, his mind had given the memories a fuzzy quality, made them easy to forget and hard to take seriously. But he knew it was real. He could see it in Mikey's eyes, Donnie's speech and Raph's stance. And he could feel it in the pit of his stomach, a constant feel of almost throwing up, his insides churning as he tried to focus. Splinter knew. He knew Leo had killed Shredder's daughter. Leo could tell by the sympathetic glances, the kindness that was even more evident and the way he _never _spoke of Karai again.

Leo couldn't think. The way things were he couldn't focus, the pain was a constant, dull, ache and he wished he could just sleep. Wished he could blackout forever. The Shredder would want revenge. Leo was surprised he hadn't done anything already. Leo couldn't move. His body was hard to control and everything he did seemed to be in slow motion. It was like he was watching himself from afar. He didn't feel centred in his body.

Several months later Leo laid in his bed unmoving. The Shredder had taken his revenge. It was all Leo could think about.

_It had been raining. Raph had finally managed to convince Leo to leave the lair and the four of them had been running. They jumped over rooftops and best of all they encountered no one. Which meant no fights. They had been halfway to April's house when it had happened. The Shredder himself. He had landed in front of them, stopping them in their tracks and then he said it. Karai had been Miwa. Splinter's daughter. Leo had killed Miwa Hamato, his father's blood. He had taken the life of not only the girl he loved but the last memory of Tang Shen. His father would never forgive him. His father _should_ never forgive him. Leo was going to make sure he suffered for what he had done._

As he lay there in the dark Leonardo Hamato promised himself no forgiveness. He would spend his life in misery. He had taken Miwa's life, Splinter's joy and his brother's sister. He was going to give himself the worst punishment he could image. He would keep living.

That night as he cried himself to sleep Leo clutched tightly his mask. His mask that was _**blue as sorrow.**_


	3. Orange as Pain

Leatherhead. He had been so strong, so kind, so _loyal_. He had fought with and for the turtles many times, risking his life for their safety and had been a place where Michelangelo felt he could relax. He had trusted Leatherhead with his life and Leatherhead had done the same. Yet when he had to choose between his brothers and his old friend his choice had placed the crocodile in the grave. He had killed him. Michelangelo Hamato had killed Leatherhead, someone who'd trusted him with his life. Leatherhead who had been through experiences so terrible he didn't even have a name before they met. Mikey just wanted to bury Leatherhead and forget about what had happened. Pretend he was still alive, that if Mikey walked far enough down the sewers he would find him. He wanted to pretend that his friend had never been possessed by a mindworm.

But he had. It was an undeniable truth that sent splinters of agony into his heart. Every time he thought about it Mikey would almost double over with pain. The fat that it was probably what Leatherhead would've wanted made it worse. Mikey had killed a being that was willing to die for him. Mikey killed someone. He might as well say it. "Michelangelo Hamato killed someone in cold blood." As soon as the words fell from his lips he wanted to cry again, to allow himself to collapse and curl up into the tightest ball imaginable and grip his own arms way too tight. He just wanted to block everything out and allow himself to focus on the pain.

Because Leatherhead had been willing to live, fight, die and _kill_ for Mikey. He would've given anything to ensure that the turtle and his brothers were safe from harm. Leatherhead. He died. Not of old age, not of a wound from an enemy, but with a bashed in skull from his first friend.

Mikey had thrown up. Vomit on the ground next to Leatherhead's body. Sick mixing with blood and tears. The vomit belonged to Mikey, the blood to Leatherhead and the tears to them both. Mikey had seen it. Seen it when the mindworm had been crushed and the crocodile regained his mind. Just in time to feel the agony of his broken skull and to see who had hurt him that way. And though Mikey did not know it, to mourn the passing of the innocence in his friend.

When they had buried Leatherhead Mikey hadn't even said goodbye. He had been to selfish too say goodbye. Too self-absorbed to say anything. He had merely stared off into space. Mikey was in pain. Physical pain. His chest ached and he couldn't move. His muscles were on fire, burning, aching with a horridness he didn't even know existed.

The touch of his brothers and father burned with a slow, long-lived, pain, the thought of the love he was receiving _without_ Leatherhead like acid slowly corroding his skin and bone away. Leatherhead would _have_ to be remembered because for him Mikey would ensure that the colour of his mask would prompt the words _**orange as pain**_.


	4. Purple as Death

Who had Donnie killed? As he stared at the broken body Donatello couldn't tell. Not that he even _knew_ this person. They had been complete stranger. Her hair was platinum blonde and about 56 centimetres long. Her skin was dark as coco and her still-open eyes were the colour classified as 'frigid lake'. She had been tall, 168 centimetres, and slim, a model's body. She had a textbook in her hand and looked to be 18/19 years old. Probably a university student. Probably a woman with a whole life ahead of her. Probably had been crawling to the top when he killed her. Probably her death would taint the lives of a massive family, hundreds of friends and many, many acquaintances. The death of this woman could mean the end of the planet, she could have been about to solve climate change!

Ok, so maybe she wasn't about to save the world, but she had done nothing wrong. All she had done was startle a ninja. She shouldn't have died for that. He shouldn't have killed her for that. God, he wished he hadn't killed her. His brothers would forgive him. They would help him make the body disappear and they would let him know he still mattered. But she would still be dead, and he would still have killed her. She would have people who missed her, and she would leave behind a hole in the world, no matter how small and it was. And it was then that Donnie knew that his brothers might forgive him but he would never forgive himself.

She had been so…Young? Beautiful? Smart? Kind? He knew nothing about her, he couldn't say.

Donnie's life wasn't the only one that changed that day, he knew that. He had her phone. She had had over 300 contacts and they all called and texted frequently. They all asked the dead girl for advice, jokes, tips and just to talk. He saw it when paic began to set in and they began to text asking why she wasn't home ad where was she. He saw it when finally the phone pinged a last message; _"The cops say you're dead. I don't know if you are. Maybe you just ran away, got sick of us all and went to start a new life. I know that doesn't sound like you, but I'm hoping that it's what you've done. I couldn't take it if you really were dead. I would die."_ The contact was called 'Eviline' and the phone got no more new messages.

Years later the phone chimed again, someone had been paying for the sim card all this time, the message was from a group chat. As Donnie read he learned about what had happened over all that time. It seemed like all of her friends were determined to keep talking to her even when she didn't talk back. He got messages about boyfriends and girlfriends, books she would have liked and photos. So many photos. Soon he could put a name to each face. Eric was tall and thin, Alix had deep blue hair and hated flash, Jack wore glasses and liked food selfies, Mary had beautiful black skin and liked girls.

Donnie sometimes wondered if he could ever forgive the mask that brought all this sorrow. His purple ninja mask. It matched his life, purple as death.


End file.
